


Turning Pages

by Ikisbean0



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Nyotalia - Fandom
Genre: 2Ptalia, Anxiety, Apocalypse, Bulimia, F/F, Mental Illness, Self Harm, Supernatural - Freeform, human verse, non binary prussia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5667724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ikisbean0/pseuds/Ikisbean0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feliciana Vargas has been living with her brother and grandfather in Australia for 6 years while dealing with her bulimia. She is still coming to terms with her horrific past when she moves out of home to a new city to begin her Bachelor of Visual Arts degree, where she meets dog crazy Monika. But as she discovers Monika's anxiety, she discovers that negative emotions are more than just feeling, and monsters do exist. And it seems Felia's parents are determined to use these monsters to control the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New

The café looks super expensive. It’s nice, a kind of cosy, warm, homey sort of café. But expensive. The ceiling is low, with shiny chandeliers hanging majestically from it to softly illuminate the room. Wood. Everything is made from a red coloured wood; it appears glossy from the light.   
This mild summer Saturday morning brings a drizzle of people in around the café, and there is a slight murmur of people’s conversations above the tranquil music playing. The music is familiar, Sleeping At Last sings about turning pages. This place not intimidating at all, for an expensive restaurant. I could definitely get used to being here. The only thing that could ruin this experience is-  
“Hey, Felia? When will this shrink show up?” My brother leans and whispers harshly to me in Italian.   
“Lovino, be patient.” Grandpapa warns, glaring at him. “Take time to appreciate this little wonder here! We’ve never dined out so nicely before.”  
“Grandpapa, we are only having coffee here.” I remind him. “I don’t think this, uh, lady is willing to pay for the meals as well.”  
“We can only hope, Feliciana.” Grandpapa winks at me. Lovino groans and I giggle nervously. As much as I enjoy such a lovely place, I want this to be over.   
My grandpapa, brother and I were invited out for coffee by my new psychologist, to ‘get acquaintance with each other’ before my first session. So she seems nice. But I am very nervous, my stomach is twisting in sickening knots, my heart is drumming too quickly and my palms so sweaty. I breathe out shakily. What if she turns out like the last ‘psychologist’?   
“Hey, it will be over soon. Try to relax.” Grandpapa rubs my shoulder. I try to smile up at him. I’m so glad I’ve got him here to support me. But he can only help so much.   
It was a little while after that when I heard my name.  
“Feliciana Vargas?” I glance up to see a pretty middle aged woman. Her voice is heavily accented yet not Australian, which is what I was expecting. Assessing her quickly, I decide she looks friendly enough. Dressed in a white sleeveless button-down blouse, black pencil skirt and silver open-toed heels, her tanned skin, golden-brown ringlets for hair, and emerald eyes, this woman reminds me of a richly coloured Impressionism painting, donned heavily with silver jewellery around her neck and wrists.  
My mind goes into instant panic. Oh god this is it.  
Trying not to lose the little balance I have, I stand up and hold out my hand and try to smile. “Yes, that is me.” I say in English.   
She takes my hand and smiles warmly, but I don’t miss the way her bespectacled eyes flit up and down me. I wonder what she sees.   
“Sorry for being a little behind time. My son-” she gestures to the young man beside her, “-somehow flattened our car battery. This is Antonio.” She and Antonia greet Grandpapa and Lovino. He certainly gets his gorgeous looks from her: tanned skin, green irises, strong build, wild hair. Also the taste in classy clothes, apparently. He looks a lot more open and genuine and happy, but why is he here as well? I wasn’t prepared for another person to have to put up with-  
“So, your accent, you are not from here either?” Grandpapa asks politely as we sit. Antonio places himself next to Lovino and grins happily. Lovino just blushes and glares at the table. Despite the situation, a grin snags at my lips and I bite it back. While I may be nervous around people, Lovino just hates it. Hates the effort of talking to people. This should be interesting.  
“True, we are Spanish.” Marie answers pleasantly. Ah, that explains the accent. “You are Italian?”   
Grandpapa nods. “Most certainly.”   
“So, what brings you and your grandchildren to Australia then?” she queries. I breathe in sharply and my stomach flips dangerously. Of course this question comes up. It does every time. You’d think I would get used to the bitter taste of why, it’s been said so often. But the bitter taste that is panic and guilt is just as strong and venomous as always.   
Oh, I shouldn’t have eaten breakfast this morning. The need to throw up causes my mouth to fill with saliva and my legs to shake.   
I go to stand quickly, but Lovino snatches my arm.   
“Don’t.” He whispers.  
Grandpapa clears his throat. “Well, we moved from Italy about, uh, six years ago.” He looks slightly uncomfortable. I fidget in my seat and snatch my arm back.   
“Hmm. I see. Well, I think it’s time for our coffee. This place makes the loveliest drinks. My shout. Antonio, would you kindly get our drinks for us?” She turns to me and Lovino. “What would you two like?”   
“Oh, no no. Lovino knows what we like. He can go help Antonio.” He looks sternly at Lovi before he can protest. Of course, he does so anyway.   
“But why should I?”   
“Lovino,” I mutter before Grandpapa can get angry. “Please.” He stares at me for a few seconds, and I know he knows, that I kinda need to be alone with this. Lovino huffs and stalks to the counter. Antonio smiles and leaps up after him.   
Marie turns to me and smiles reassuringly. “Well, then. Feliciana, we will have plenty of time to get to know each other. But please relax. This is simply a coffee meet up. I’m not going to be asking anything of you today. Okay?” she blinks down at me. I nod, only feeling slightly reassured. I want to tell her to just call me Felia, but I trust myself to only be able to squeak at this point.  
She winks, and turns to Grandpapa.  
“So, you like it here in Australia, yes? And what do you do?”  
Grandpapa grins. “I am a farmer.” Marie seems to lap this up, pouncing on information like its gold.  
“Well, what’s that like?”  
This continues on and on, bombarding him with questions, and while she makes some comments toward me, she never actually asks me anything. When Lovino and Antonio return, Marie attempts to interrogate my brother. While Lovi hates it, he of course has learnt the art of good manners, and while he may glare at the table and blush in frustration, he answers Marie’s insane probing. I don’t understand, but I don’t care. Sipping on my hot chocolate (Which is AMAZING and cover me in hot chocolate naked any day), I listen contently as the chatter swirls around me, but doesn’t pull me in.  
*  
On the drive home, I was feeling cautiously positive. Yes, I could do this. My first appointment is on Wednesday. I’m not as scared now that I know her. And it gives me an excuse to speak more English too, usually I am non-stop speaking in Italian because I am always non-stop talking to Lovino and Grandpapa. The happy feeling explains my word vomit that occurs for most of the trip back to my place.  
“Hey, Lovi. Antonio was really nice, wasn’t he? I think you two should be friends. That would be great, because he was so nice and friendly and could be a good influence on you and when you guys come visit me during the holidays you could have a friend here already which would be good so if you have friends maybe then you could invite them over to play X Box with you instead of bugging me all the time when I am practicing guitar, hey do you want to go for a walk when we get home and explore? It seems like a nice place where we live…” I blabber on, ignoring Lovi’s sighs and mutters telling me to shut up.  
Lovino and Grandpapa are staying with me in this new house in this new city for a couple of days for me to settle in, then they will be going back home to the little country town. I have moved into a share house, which means that other students will be moving in at some point. I’m very nervous about the people who will move in. Will they be nice? What if they are… unaccepting?   
For the second time today, my stomach turns inside out. I stop talking, and silently stress. I begin my undergraduate Bachelor of Visual Arts degree next week. This is the whole reason why I moved from the little country town seven hours away to be here. At least I am not here by myself right now. I would’ve been completely lost without Lovino and Grandpapa. Yes, I will be okay as long as they are with me. I’ll figure the rest out.   
We three have been together since I was twelve, when we moved to Australia together, ever since…  
Today is the second day since I moved to the city. It has definitely been a new experience. Lovino constantly grumbles about missing the trees and hills and the farm work, and I feel so bad that I had to make everyone take another big step away from familiarity. It’s always my fault. But at the same time, I don’t want them to be leaving me here. It just proves how selfish I am.  
Always. I was the reason why we had to flee our country to this foreign land. And now this…  
“Felia, stop it.” Lovino growls. I glance at him in the front passenger seat. He has twisted around to face me.   
“Stop what?” I try my innocent face. He just glares.  
“I know that face. Stop it. We don’t mind this. Stop thinking like that.”  
Easier said than done.  
“Okay, sorry.” I say weakly.  
He sighs and turns back in his seat so he faces the front. “There is nothing you need to be sorry for.” He mumbles. Grandpapa remains silent.  
As we turn down the street, the girl with heaps of dogs is walking around again. I always see her, every day, walking at least five dogs, up our street. I’m not actually sure where abouts she lives, though. I’ve been trying to find an excuse to talk to her, but never come up with any. I wave at her as we drive pass. She nods back.  
If Marie is an Impressionism painting, then Dog Girl is a Cubism sculpture. Made from steel or stone, probably. Then again, that is just based on her appearance. She may have the personality of Futurist poems, who knows. And thinking about it, now I desperately want to know, I want to know what her voice sounds like, her laugh, her smile.   
She is tall, and beautiful. Short blonde hair, palish skin and bright blue eyes, she is built like a tank. Quite the opposite of my long red-brown wavy hair (with that stupid one curl that is always sticking out), medium height, far too skinny body with too long limbs, terra cotta eyes and olive complexion.   
Again, I can only make assessments based on what she looks like. Who knows, we could be similar.   
I snort, she looks way too strong to be anything like me. I bet she is fearless.   
But her expression is always slightly worried. I wonder, would she be my friend or…?   
Today she is wearing her trademark dark green jacket that’s tied at her waist, black singlet, and dark sweatpants and combat boots. Very contrasting to the light blue sundress I wear.  
Maybe I’ll offer her water next time? No, that would be a bit weird.   
*  
As we pull into our drive way, Grandpapa clears his throat.   
“Felia, if you-” he is cut off by his ringtone. He shuts off the car and looks at the caller I.D. He mutters something under his breath and answers in English. Lovino huffs and scrambles out of the car. I quickly follow, leaving Grandpapa behind. I wonder what he was going to say to me.  
The share house is really nice and big. It can hold up to six tenants, three on the top floor and three on the bottom. I live on the top floor. So far, I am the only tenant here. Which is why Lovino and Grandpapa are able to get away with sleeping in the lounge room.   
“Hurry up and unlock the door, Felia!” Lovino grumbles.   
“O-Oh! Sorry Lovi!” I scramble to dig the house keys out of my pocket. “I was just dazing off, sorry!”   
“It’s fine, jeez.” He mutters as I push the door open. He storms inside and takes the stairs two at a time. I blink in surprise and cautiously follow him. He has always been abrupt, but that threw me off. What’s eating at him?   
As I reach the top of the stairs, I can see Lovino pulling off the blankets from the couch.   
“Um, Lovi? You’re still staying another couple of nights, aren’t you?” Suspicion is replaced by fear. He slowly looks at me.   
“I saw who called Grandpapa. It was the Boss from the farm. You know what that means, right?” he says without emotion.  
“No.”  
“Yes, you do. You know he only calls when he needs Grandpapa. And you knew it was a possibility that we would have to leave earlier than planned because of that.”  
“No.” I say again. The word feels weak though, it breaks easily under Lovino’s strong conviction. “It could be different. Maybe you saw wrong.”   
“Please, Felia. I don’t want to leave you here either. But you know how frequent Grandpapa gets called to work on his days off. And I don’t think he would leave you here if he thought you couldn’t handle it.”  
I shake my head. Grandpapa will come in, saying that his friend just called him to complain about the terrible service at the local pub again, and that I should start cooking lunch for everyone. Yes, Lovino is wrong.   
The fear has settled in my stomach anyway, cold and heavy.   
“Felia…”  
“That was the Boss.” Grandpapa announces grimly as he walks in. The floor seems to drop away from my feet. Grandpapa puts a firm hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, but we will need to leave in a few hours.”  
*  
In Australia, the start of the year is in summer. This evening is rather hot and dry, making my emotional state worse. I sit under a small tree in the backyard, playing soft tunes on my guitar while trying to stop myself crying. I’m failing quite a bit.   
Lovi gives me one of his rare special hugs.   
“Please, PLEASE, look after yourself. I’m a phone call away, okay? Call me every night if you have to, I don’t mind.”  
Grandpapa smiles encouragingly at me as he pulls me in a not so rare, but equally special hug.  
“You’ve got this Felia. I’m so proud, you should be too. We’ll come to visit, I promise.”   
All too soon, they are gone, and I am alone.   
I groan and hit my head against the tree as another sob wreaks though me. I hope someone else moves in this house soon. Anyone, just so I am not alone. I don’t like being alone.   
Focusing all my energy on this guitar, I play louder. For tonight, music will have to be my company.   
*  
I don’t know what to do with myself today. So I end up doing the same as yesterday, the first time in this big house alone. Still in my pyjamas, I sit at the counter along the kitchen, eating eggs and toast. It’s around 11’oclock, and that’s when I hear the mailman pull away from my house (home, it’s my home now). Scoffing the last bit of toast, I leap away from my chair and make my way downstairs and out the door.   
Maybe I should get on a bus and explore? No, I would get lost too easily. Maybe I should take a look around the University? I don’t have the excuse of it being the weekend to not do anything now.  
The mail I received was nothing interesting. Just a letter to once again congratulate me on my course and all the benefits of the University life and how to organise your time wisely, and junk mail. I turn to make my way back inside when I hear a cry.  
“Beau, Erhalten Sie hier Zurück!”   
I turn to see what caused the shout, but I am faced with a golden ball of fur launching itself at me. I squeal as the large-ish dog bounds up and knocks me backward. The world tips upside down and I am facing the sky.  
“Oomph! Huh, what?” I flail against the grass along the nature-strip as the dog starts licking furiously at my face. I giggle as I try to push him off me.  
“Beau! I am so sorry! Nein, Beau!” The voice is closer now, but I can’t quite see who it belongs to. A hand quickly snatches the dog’s collar and drags him off me. I wipe my face with my sleeve and try to stop the nervous giggling. The hand then extends out to me. I take it, and am flung upright rather dizzyingly.   
“Whoa, uh, thanks for that.” I giggle nervously in what I hope is English and turn to see her.  
The beautiful dog girl. She is even more tall and beautiful up close and her eyes are so blue wow it’s so cliché but I have never seen such blue eyes. There’s a thin silver chain around her neck, attached to it a couple of those dog tags you see soldiers wear but this has strange symbols on it-  
Dog Girl appears to be even more concerned than usual.   
“Please, I am so so sorry! He gets so over friendly sometimes, but I should’ve been able to stop that! Are you hurt?” Her voice is deep yet soft, and also heavily accented.  
“Hey, are you German?” I blurt out. I quickly slap my hand on my mouth after that. Trust me to just talk without thinking. The girl blinks in surprise.  
“Uh, ja. That’s right.”  
“Hello! Well, don’t worry about the dog, it’s totally fine. I’m not hurt at all.” I grin, still embarrassed, but hoping to put her to ease. She looked almost in tears, the poor girl.  
“Um, okay. Good, but I’m still very sorry. And, you don’t sound like you’re from here…?”  
“Italian.” I say, winking. She blushes.  
“Um, sorry. I’m terrible with accents. Uh, I-I am Monika. You’ve just moved here, ja?” She holds all the dog leashes in one hand and holds out the other. I take it willingly. Her hand is so warm.  
“Yes. I am Feliciana. And I am very pleased to meet you.”   
“Well, Feliciana, um, is there any way I can make this up to you? Please?” She looks down at the ground, still looking uncomfortable. “If you want.”   
“Actually, I would very much appreciate being shown around!” I say ecstatically. “I have been a little too nervous to go exploring, but I really probably should coz I need to be able to find my way- um I mean, please show me around?” I try out a shy grin, too giddy for embarrassment over the word vomit.   
She- Monika blinks slowly at me, and a small smile graces her mouth, and God how did I miss how good her mouth looks.  
“S-sure, yeah that will be fine. Um, where about would you like to go?” her smile turns more genuine.  
“The University, perhaps? I start there next week.” I suggest breathlessly. “I know its nearby, but isn’t it also very big and easy to get lost in? That’s what I heard, anyway.”  
She chuckles throatily. “Ja, I can help you with that.” Then, blushing, she adds, “Um, I can wait here if you want to get changed?” her intense gaze flickers to my pyjamas, and her blush deepens.  
I wink, and run inside again. Oh, my heart is so loud! But, now I know the beauty’s name. And now I get a day with her. I grin. Already, things are starting to look hopeful.  
*  
“Beau is a rather French name, isn’t it?” I ask. The dog in question has his head in my lap as I am treating him to scratches and pats. Monika and I sit at a bench in a nice little park nestled near the Humanities building, enjoying the refreshing shade of a nearby tree. I am utterly spent. Monika has shown me the University campus, and it is huge with lots of stairs and hills. Then she showed me the path she usually takes when she walks all of the dogs.   
“Beau is, uh, was Francis’s dog. He is too ‘preoccupied’ to walk him, so he gave him to me, like as he always passes off responsibility. But I do not mind.” She replies softly.   
Despite how tired I am from walking, I have loved every second of it. Every little bit of information she divulges about herself is treasured knowledge, as if her words are cool water and I am so parched. I guess that’s what happens after spending so long being socially deprived.  
I have learnt that she lives with her older (non-binary) sibling Gil and their two other friends, Francis and Antonio. I was happily shocked to be able to recognise that it was the same Antonio I met yesterday…   
Monika and Gil’s grandfather is still in Germany, but will be planning to visit soon. Monika is very excited to see him again. But she also misses her country. The only reason she came to Australia was because of Gil and their two friends wanted to stay together always, so when Antonio’s mother decided to be a psychologist based here, Francis and Gil moved as well. Monika was told to keep an eye on Gil, to keep them out of serious trouble.   
She had smiled sadly when she told me this. She said while she did try to keep them out of mischief, it was Gil who took care of her.   
She had gotten really quiet after that.  
In turn, I talked plenty about Grandpa and Lovino, about the little town we grew to call home, about grandpa’s work, the pets we have, and eventually, about my art degree that I am starting.  
“Monika, what are the other dogs’ names? What kind of dogs are they?” I ask her now. I sneak another glance at her, at her face, her neck, those eyes…  
She seems to glow from within whenever the topic turns to dogs. “Well,” she says brightly, “Beau is a Labrador. Francis got him in repayment for… um, ‘helping’ someone.” She blushes brightly and quickly glances at me. She then pulls the smallest dog into her lap. “The other golden retriever is one of mine. Aster, he was a birthday present from Gil. I have had him for a while. Also, the German Sheppard and the Doberman are mine, they are Blackie and Berlitz. And this one here,” she cuddles the dog in her lap, “is one I am looking after. This is Mars. She is a Jack Russel Terroir.” She smiles at me warmly. “I love my dogs. They are my life.”  
Her expression and words are heavy with passion. It feels me with a strange warmth, how such an intimidating looking person could have such an innocent and simple love. I beam back at her. For once in my life, I have no desire to say anything, just to enjoy the pure emotion that needs no words. Her passion is something I can relate to, I feel the same way about art. But the way she expresses herself through something like this. I remember thinking that she was a Cubism sculpture, a solid form of stone that has defined faces and clear planes. All sides visible. But now that I have met her, I don’t know what she is. Definitely not Cubism. Monika is reserved, not open at all, yet not hidden. But she isn’t Impressionist either, she is too solid in her existence for that. Maybe she is Surrealism, seemingly outlandish and foreign in her swirl of deep, dark colours, but really hiding deep meaning and realistic groundings. I just don’t know her well enough.  
But Surrealism she is. Until I get a better interpretation of her.  
“Anyway,” she blushes and looks away. “Sorry.”  
Another thing I have learnt about Monika, she constantly apologises. Whenever she thinks that she has said something annoying or pointless, she is quick to stutter out a string of words and retreat back into herself. It makes me wonder, what caused her to be this closed off?   
She clears her throat, and appears to force a smile on her face. “Well, we have been walking around for quite a while now, are you hungry?”   
I grin up at her, but the thought of food seems to be a little too much.  
“Absolutely!”  
*  
After a lot more walking, and attempting to tie up all the dogs up outside on a pole, we manage to sit and order at a vintage-styled bakery on the University campus. We are seated close to the air conditioner, as the weather is really starting to heat up. I gulp down on my lemonade as Monika takes a small sip from her Ginger Beer, like she is too afraid to disturb the air by her movements. Frowning, I look away, knowing all too well the signs of anxiety. I decide to focus on the artworks hanging around the café. Not really my type; they are pop culture pieces, cartoon portraiture of Marilyn Monroe and bright photographs of olden styled cars. Each to their own, I guess.   
“Are you studying here at the Uni?” I ask, turning to her as I take another drag of sweet, sweet lemonade. I have developed an appreciation for all drinks, but the sad truth is because drinks were my main diet for so long. Even now, food is a bit of a stretch, but I can now start to keep it down, most of the time….  
“Nein, uh, I mean no, sorry. We live close by though. Gil goes here. They’re studying performance arts, so I guess the two of you will be running into each other a lot.”  
“Is the art department close to the drama one?”  
“The very same building, actually. After lunch, I can show you if you like.”  
“Yes, that would be great, grazie!” I squawk, and Monika laughs nervously. The waiter comes with our meals then.   
“Toasted sandwich with tomato, cheese and ham?” he says politely, in that Australian scrawl that even after six years, I can never get used to. I smile up at him, and gosh is it possible to have that many freckles on one face. He’s cute, in a puppy dog way. He would be interesting to draw, I think. The freckles would give a really cool tone to the skin.  
“Mine, thanks cameriere.” I slide my drink out of the way as he places my toastie down in front of me. He turns to Monika.  
“And yours is the Sheppard’s pie?” She nods with a small, strained smile, and I wonder how much effort it has taken her to talk to me for this long. Guilt, the familiar poison, it thickens my blood and suddenly the sandwich in front of me looks revolting. The waiter places the pie down and walks off, carrying my voice with him. I can’t believe I made her show me around when clearly something is wrong.   
Ugh I hate myself. Always so selfish.  
A twitch catches my attention. Monika’s hand itches for her fork, but I know she is waiting for me to eat. It’s how anxiety works. You can’t do anything unless you have permission to do so. It’s the fear of messing up, of doing something wrong.   
So, ignoring my queasiness, I muster up my former enthusiasm, pick up half of my toastie, and take a bite. It’s warm and yum, but the tightness in my throat makes me scared to swallow.   
But I glance up, and I catch the subtle signature of relief in the way Monika seems to lean forward and reach her fork with ease. If it makes it easier for her, I swear I will finish this whole sandwich.  
I swear I will help ease her back into whatever it is she is scared of.  
*  
Lunch started quiet.   
Her: probably thinking, tangled by nerves to strike up a conversation. Maybe it’s all the people.   
Me: definitely thinking about how I can try to reach out to this girl. I still can’t figure out what she is, but I think she is definitely a sculpture of some sort. But I can’t expect to know every fine rendering of her after just one day. No, the artwork that is Monika needs a lot of time to be studied and appreciated carefully.   
At the moment, she has a shell of glass, coloured in a way that looks sturdy and not see through, but actually so fragile. I just need to be patient in chipping this outer layer off, and not go too deep to fast.  
But god do I want to know. There is something there, I can catch a gleam of it when she laughs openly, or speaks of her dogs.   
But then there is a problem.  
I want to invest all this time on her, but the only reason we have today together is because of her ‘debt’. Will she even want to see me again?  
Monika coughs lightly into her hand, sucking me back to earth. I glance up to meet her gaze, those cosmic blue eyes widen as she blushes.  
“Sorry to interrupt your thinking, but the way you were glaring at your plate. Are you okay?” She fiddles with the salt shaker and maintains eye contact. I wonder if her heart is racing.   
I giggle nervously. “Sorry, just thinking. There is just a lot to take in, I’m rather overwhelmed! Haha.” I grin, trying to say don’t stress, I know, and it is okay.  
We don’t seem to have this telepathy thing yet, but she smiles anyway. I take her empty plate and stake it on mine. We go up to the counter, pay, and leave.  
Stepping outside is painful, it’s just so hot. The glare of then sun makes me realise that sunglasses are necessary for survival. I will have to buy some soon. Shading my eyes with my hand, I turn to Monika. She winces as she blinks back against the harsh sun.  
“I hope the poor doggies are okay.” I sigh as they all just about turn inside out at seeing us. Monika giggles and the sound sends shivers down my torso as she bends down to untie them.  
“Yes, this weather is not friendly at all. They must be thirsty. Um, Feliciana? I-can I please make a suggestion?” She stands up so suddenly and so close to me I can smell Lynx chocolate body spray and I can see that she has multiple piercings in each of her ears.  
Let me be the first to say, there is something incredibly attractive about boys and girls and humans with piercings. My weak spot.  
“U-um, sure you can. Of course.” I murmur, still reeling in at how close she is. Looking pointedly determined, she allows herself a small smile.  
“It is very hot at the moment, why don’t we continue the tour this evening when its cooler? If, uh, that’s okay with you, of course.”  
I smile, but I deflate a little inside. “Of course that is fine.”   
“Okay. Well, we can head back to my place and show you around the city while in the cool, air conditioned, comfort in my car, if you would like? I g-guess you don’t have a bus card yet?” she blushes and starts to fidget, so I jump in for the kill before she starts to backtrack.  
“Oh, gosh, I would love to!” I gush. More time spent with this mysterious warrior of a girl is time well spent.   
And then I feel something cold and wet on my hand. Glancing down, I meet with Aster’s light brown puppy eyes.   
The way he looks at me is knowing.  
He looks up at me, smiles slowly and winks.  
Deliberately.


	2. Chapter 2

One thing about Australian weather, it’s so temperamental. I mean sure, it is the middle of summer (which is in January I’ll have you know), but the morning started off bearable, nice even. But now it’s mid-afternoon, and it’s dizzyingly, stickily scorching. This heat is surely frizzling away at my brain. Maybe it has already been fried.  
At least that would explain why I seem to see Aster observing my every move.  
Needless to say, I am slightly very concerned that I may possibly have gone a little bit crazy. Even now as I glance down at the golden fur ball as we walk briskly back across the campus, he sure enough meets my gaze expectantly, cheekily even. Feeling ridiculous, I challenge his gaze, hoping he will look away because Aster is just a dog.  
I raise my eyebrows at him. He snorts and winks back before lolling his long tongue out. I quickly look away again as we duck beneath some trees for shade.  
That’s when the German Sheppard gives a short growl at Aster.  
That’s when I squeak and flail away.  
If I didn’t know any better, I could’ve sworn that the sounded like STOP.  
Monika jumps at my outburst, throwing a sideway glance at the big dog, then turns fully toward me with a soft smile.  
“Don’t worry, they are not going to hurt you. They are grumpy because of this weather.” She reaches down and runs her fingers through his fur, gushing softly to them in German. We are now on the University oval, the outermost area of the Uni, closest to the streets of my area of residence.  
I offer her a weak, exhausted smile. “I can’t blame them for that.” I laugh. “This foreign weather still confuses me.”  
Monika gives an affirmative laugh when there is a chime sounding from her pocket. She whips a small black phone out, and Who Let the Dogs Out rings loudly.  
Oh my GOD. This girl, I swear. World’s biggest dork. Dog Queen right here.  
Shooting me an embarrassed glance as I snort to cover giggles, she answers her call in German while blushing up a storm.  
I try, I really do. To contain my snickers I mean, as we come off the oval and onto the foot path.  
The pavement looks real hot and shiny, and I feel real bad for the poor dogs. Picking up the speed, we half jog across the road where there are (thankfully) no cars passing. There is a lot more shade on this side, with all the trees and bushes in the front yards of the homes we walk past.  
Monika is talking quickly and quietly in her language. Well, I say quickly, but really, I have no idea. I can’t differentiate between the words she uses, where a sentence ends and another starts. But then again, I used to think the same thing about English. Just gotta learn these things, I guess.  
But I know enough to understand that she does not sound happy at all. Somewhere between frustrated and tired. Gazing at her, she looks older, frowning while listening to whoever she is speaking to. She goes to run her hand through her hair, but stops once she realises that all those leashes are still in her hand, and sighs instead. Wordlessly, I reach out and take the dogs from her. She startles as I gently poke her hands, but relaxes and gives me a tight smile, I bundle the rope leashes in my hand, and then Monika starts to furiously fist at her hair.  
Frowning, I look at the ground.  
What has got her this up tight? Who is calling?  
Why the anxiety, Monika? When did this happen?  
So many questions buzzing around my pathetic excuse for a brain.  
Why, why, why?  
How?  
There is one question, however, that seems the loudest and the heaviest and the most desperate for an answer-  
Monika has her large hand on my thin arm, stopping me from almost crossing another street. I blink up at her guiltily. Being totally soaked up in my questions, I was completely unaware of where I was walking.  
She still has the phone pressed on her ear, and with her this close to me, I can hear the faint crackle of the caller’s voice. Offering me a stern smile, she pulls me gently down a street that looks familiar.  
*  
Monika wraps up her phone call as we stop at what I assume is her place. Being a little disoriented, I cannot tell exactly how far away we are from my home. But it can’t be too far, I figure.  
“I, uh, am very sorry for that. It was Gil.” Monika says softly after pocketing her phone. Her English voice is different than her native tongue. Before, her words were stronger, spoken strongly. Now, they seem a little transparent, faded.  
“No worry! I hope everything is okay.” I beam up at her. She smiles briefly before turning to the house we stopped at. Still facing away, she pokes my hand that has the leashes. I hand her the dogs  
“We are going to have to post-pone tonight sorry. Something has come up. It’s nothing bad, just, uh, a family situation. I am sorry, though. Tomorrow I can show you, um, if you would like.”  
“Of course! That is quite okay! Thank you for doing this, by the way.” I have to now jog to keep up with her walk. Monika won’t look at me as we head for her home.  
All the houses around this area are super nice. This one is no exception. The front yard is full of bushes and flowers and a few trees, with enough room for their largish trampoline. As we walk along the pale driveway toward the garage, I look up at the house. It’s two-story, like mine, made from red bricks. Unlike mine though, this house has no balcony.  
I was expecting to go through the house, but instead we stop at the garage door. Monika reaches down and heaves the roller door up and gestures for me to go through. Five steps through is all I manage before I get knocked to the ground again by the dogs. As I land splat on my stomach beside a black car, I glance up to see it was Aster who bowled me over.  
This dog is out to get me, I swear. He just keeps bounding along happily with the other dogs to the backyard like nothing happened. But I know he knows. Aster is no normal dog.  
Maybe I should tell my new psychologist about this new development. Apparently now I believe that Aster is a human trapped in a dog’s body. Ha.  
“Oh, Feliciana!” Monika cries. I look across to see her crouch down at my head, and I curse to myself for not getting up sooner. All I’m doing is just fuelling her nervousness.  
Her sculpted, palish arms reach for me – oh gosh those toned biceps – and as her hands hook under my arms, I catch a glimpse at her wrists.  
There, under silver and woven bracelets, are small scars crossing on her skin.  
These are different to what she has up on her arm, the scars looking uncontrolled, like she was attacked by some animal.  
The scars on her wrist were definitely self-inflicted.  
I choke back a whimper as she lifts me to my feet for the second time today. I wish I was strong enough to lift her up.  
“Oh god, are you okay? Diese dummen Hunde. Sorry, Feliciana!” Her hands are still tucked under my arm, and she hasn’t seemed to have noticed me seeing the scars. I swallow thickly and nod. My voice cannot be trusted, not like this.  
Blonde eyebrows drawn up, Monika frowns at me, confused. Should I let her know I saw? Ah, but then she would withdraw. Today must have been a huge mental effort to begin with. I don’t want to make it worse for her.  
So I smile, like I always do, and pat her arms lightly.  
“Sorry, I was just a little dazed! I am quite fine, don’t worry, ha ha. Though I think Aster is out to get me.” I shoot her a smirk, and her expression quirks to amusement.  
“Heh, Ja, Aster has always been cheeky. Well, as long as you are alright.” She steps away from me then, turns to the wall behind her and unhooks a set of keys hanging up just above her head. Turning to the car again, she presses a button, and the car flashes and beeps.  
Monika opens the front passenger door for me. My face heats up as I scamper into this sleek, black car.  
The inside looks expensive, and sitting here makes me feel like if I so much as breathe, I’ll damage something. I should not be trusted near such valuable things, due to my obvious clumsiness.  
I watch Monika walk across the front of the car, and that question rattles around in my head again.  
Why, why, why?  
Monika slides into the car with more grace than I ever could. She turns to me and gives a small, shy smile before gently inserting the key into the ignition. The car starts up with a low hum, almost like a purr.  
“What kind of car is this?” I ask as she slides it into reverse. Putting her hand on my seat, she twists around and steers us out of the garage.  
“Just one second, sorry.” She says quickly before climbing out again and jogs back to the garage. I watch her back as she reaches up to pull down the roller door. Her black singlet is riding up, and I can see her muscles working with the movement.  
I make it no secret that I absolutely love the human body.  
Artistically, of course.  
Usually.  
(I mean, of course it’s more than that, I am human. Obviously there are other reasons. Get over yourself, Vargas.)  
But artistically speaking, I love recreating the form, the structure, movement, beauty. Watching the way muscles shape the skin, how the light shines through hair, the grace of everyday actions.  
That’s what I like to capture with my drawings.  
So observing Monika is okay, for artistic purposes, since she is pretty ideal to draw. She would make a great model. And she looks sturdy enough to be able to pull off some of the trickier poses too.  
Ha. Like that would ever happen. There is no way I could ask someone I barely know to do that. Especially Monika. While physically, she would be ideal, I don’t think Monika would be mentally capable of that.  
And I really wanna change that.  
Monika jumps back in the car, startling me, and swings us out of the driveway and down the street. I am too used to the old farm Ute Grandpapa drives us around in, since it’s so much bigger and louder than what we are in now. I feel too close to the ground.  
“There is your place.” Monika murmurs gently after a few minutes silence. I glance out her window as we round a corner, and there it is, my new house.  
“Oh. Haha, it is too.”  
“Sorry, I did not answer your question before. I don’t know what car this is. Gil owns it.” She then grips the steering wheel and growls, “That bastard took my motorbike without asking me. Again. Well, I guess this time it worked out well.” She shrugs.  
“Wow, you have a motorbike?” I try hard not to imagine her in leather gear.  
She shoots me an embarrassed smirk. “Yeah. I don’t need usually need a car as it’s only me when travelling, and even then it’s usually by bus.”  
“What if you need to take the dogs somewhere?” the smirk she throws me this time is devilishly cheeky.  
“I steal Gil’s car.”  
I think back to the garage. I didn’t see any other cars, yet Monika said that Antonio and… the French guy whose name I forget lives there. Four people living there, yet only one car?  
“What about the other two people you live with? How do they travel?”  
“Have you ever lived in a city?” she asks gently. I grow confused. How does that relate?  
“No. Never.”  
“You’ll find that it is quite easy to get by without owning a vehicle. It is so much easier and cheaper to simply catch a bus.”  
We are on a main road now, and speak of the devil, there is a bus beside us. Huh. “But sometimes Antonio will use his mother’s car. Francis doesn’t have his licence.”  
“Oh, is that how he flattened the car battery?” I remember Saturday, why Marie was late to the coffee meet up.  
I sense Monika looking at me, so I turn to meet her shocked expression. We have stopped at red lights.  
“How did you know that?”  
Ah. I should have thought this one through. I really don’t want to have to explain how I know Antonio.  
“U-um, well you see…” I start to fidget. How am I meant to crawl out of this one?  
But Monika just blinks and slowly looks me up and down like she knows. Assessing how thin I am, how I struggled to eat lunch, what she must have surely heard from her Spanish housemate.  
I swallow and turn away from her understanding. We have known each other for a handful of hours, and already I can sense us getting tangled up in each other’s complications. If I can already tell that she has some messed up issues, then there is absolutely no doubt that she knows that I carry some heavy story too. And as much as I want to know her story, and to help her write a better one, it’s scary for her to turn through the pages of mine.  
I don’t like being known too deeply. I don’t like sharing with people about that, it’s just…  
All my fault.  
The light goes green, and Monika turns left, the opposite direction to where I thought the main part of the city is.  
“H-hey, Monika? I thought that the city was-”  
Monika blushes. “Um, well, if it’s okay, I thought I would show you the shopping centre that’s close by. It is a five minute drive, and a really convenient place for you to know. We could get you a bus card there as well.” She glances at me. “I was hoping that we could spend some more time together throughout the week. I will show you around some more. Of course, if-”  
“It is a wonderful idea! That would be great! Thanks, Monika.”  
“No problem, Feliciana.”  
*  
I like to think of myself as a people person. I like entertaining, I like talking and just being with peopled, as long as I don’t have to open up about certain things. Though I used to be scared, that people would look at me and just know, and then my parents’ words and actions would be repeated. Lovino assured me that it would never happen again, so I believed him.  
When I say people person, there is no way I could get comfortable with this.  
Westfield Shopping centre is huge. And full of people. So many people. Like, twice as many people as there are in my hometown kind of crowd. This is insane.  
“Gosh, I will get quite lost very easily here!” I squeak, holding onto Monika’s arm. She chuckles. I can smell chocolate scented spray on her clothes.  
“Once you come here a few times, you will get used to it. I thought the same when I was here.”  
Monika doesn’t seem to mind me clinging to her.  
There are several floors, all connected by escalators. Monika takes me around on the lowest level, pointing at several shops that she fancies.  
“There is T2. It is a lovely tea place, but I just like the smell. And over there is Coles, where I do our grocery shopping. And just here is a book shop that is really nice, I go there a lot. There is also a lot of clothes shops, and cafes.” She weaves through the crowd with grace, but I can feel the tension rolling off her. She doesn’t seem to like the crowds any more than I do.  
Hoping this is the right move, I sling my arm through hers, glancing up to see her reaction.  
She smiles shyly down at me.  
I think I have made a new friend.  
*  
We couldn’t stay long. Monika has that family situation to get to. So she took me to a newsagents on the second floor and I bought a bus pass card thing. I also had to put money on it, for tomorrow, apparently.  
I also bought sunglasses. They’re red and bug-eyed, and I love them.  
I was definitely going to have to come back here. There was an art supply stall I need to investigate, and also a board game shop I wouldn’t mind looking in. And I guess this is where I will be doing my shopping too, as it’s much closer to home than the main city.  
Monika apologizes for making such a short trip, and promises next time it will be quicker.  
“It is fine, piccolo cucciolo. You have done more than enough today for me, I really appreciate it.” I smile up at her as we step out to the car park. It feels like waking into hell, it’s so HOT.  
We still have our arms linked as we walk briskly to Monika’s car. She unlocks it barely in time before I leap in.  
It’s sweltering in here oh my gosh.  
Monika, graceful as ever, slides in and immediately cranks up the air conditioner. I glance up to her, to find her looking sheepishly at me. We burst into light, guilty giggles.  
This weather really is messing with us.  
Putting the car into drive, Monika quickly gets us out of there, turning and weaving through the dense amount of other vehicles. Soon, we are back on the main road to home. I look at my new bus card. It’s green, and holds $20 at this moment.  
“So, how far will the twenty get me?” I say, waving the card in front of my face.  
“Hmm, it depends how often you want to travel. If you are like Francis, and on a bus nearly every day, then it would be cheaper to get a month pass. But if you rarely go out, then it might be okay.”  
“Oh,” I nod to myself. I did want to explore, and no I have someone with me, it’s more tempting.  
“It will definitely last you this week, Feliciana. I’ll make sure you will be okay.” She says after a moment. Heat rises to my face, and trying to hold in the smile hurts my cheeks. Touched by her words, I touch her arm.  
“T-thank you heaps.”  
My hand rests on one of her scars, the one that looks like it was caused by some attack. I want to ask about it, since how scary it looks, and how odd it is. But is it something I can query about? After knowing her for a short time, and not really knowing anything about her at all?  
It might be too painful for her to bring up a traumatic experience.  
But I really am curious.  
And appalled. Who would do such a thing?  
Instinctively, I reach for the burns and scars that mark my torso.  
You would be surprised what kind of horrific things people are capable of.  
The silence is getting heavy. I need to say something, oh gosh I think I am going to be sick-  
“What time would you like to meet up tomorrow, Feliciana?” Monika asks while turning down a street I recognise. Almost home already.  
“Um, I really do not mind. The same time as today is good for me.” I force a grin at her. Monika hums.  
“Sure thing. I won’t bring the dogs this time, so maybe you will be safe from visiting the ground so often.” She turns to smirk cheekily at me, and my grin feels more genuine.  
“Ha! Don’t worry about that, I am bound to find something to stumble on. It’s a talent, actually.”  
Throwing a quick look of mock disgust, she rounds the corner, and there is my house.  
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. But, um, here we are.”  
I don’t want to get out.  
“Thank you so much for today. It really was great. I am quite happy I met you, Monika.” I smile and give her arm a squeeze, and watch as her face quickly becomes a shade of pink.  
I let go of her arm and climb out of the cool car to the hot outside.  
Monika winds down the window of the door I just closed, and leans across the passenger seat.  
“I-I am glad we met as well. And I look forward to tomorrow.” She offers that small, shy smile. I step back, and wave as she drives off, around the corner, and I just stand there, waving.  
That actually just happened.  
The suns heat is starting to burn my skin, I can feel the sting, so I run to the house. With mixed feelings.  
Happy, giddy, confused, dizzy, concerned, scared, upset, all these emotions colour me as I rush to unlock the door and scramble up the stairs.  
The question still colours me most though.  
It was obvious that Monika has some sort of anxiety disorder. Easily recognisable to me, due to mine and Lovino’s insecurities, and cases of brief anxiety cases.  
But Monika’s isn’t brief, or mild.  
And what I am burning with the desire to know is…  
Why would she take a complete stranger out and around when she could barely look at me or anyone in the eye?  
Why would she force herself into a situation like this?  
Ugh, I need a bath.  
*  
With the evening brings slightly cooler temperatures, and I am sprawled out across the lounge room floor, underneath the air conditioner.  
During the time I have been back here, I had a half an hour bath that left my skin all soft and wrinkly, downed four cups of coffee, sent and received many texts from Lovino, received one from my landlord telling me about a new housemate moving in on Wednesday, and sketched 27 drawings of Monika.  
And two sketches of her dogs.  
Of course it was awkward, and I felt paranoid that she would know what I was doing, but I had to try and get rid of the hype that she left in my system.  
They were charcoal pencil sketches, and they were of her walking dogs, eating the pie, driving, lifting the garage roller door, reaching up for it again, and many, many headshots. Of her facing left and right, and then I had gotten inventive.  
I tried drawing her doing things I hadn’t seen her do, like reading a book, taking a nap, sipping coffee, lifting up Aster…  
Aster.  
Now that it has been a while since the whole thing with that dog, it is easy to pretend that I was imagining things.  
There was no way that he was winking at me, studying me, tripping me over on purpose. Dogs are like that all the time.  
And yet, I remember seeing that knowing look, that human like intelligence in his expressive face.  
And then the German Sheppard growling at him, it almost sounded like a command.  
Like he said STOP.  
No. I am not going crazy. It’s impossible, but I know what I witnessed.  
There is something not normal going on here.  
And I am going to find out exactly what this is.  
Heaving a sigh, I drag myself up to my feet and, with my latest coffee in hand, walk out onto the balcony. It is just getting dark. The stars can’t shine here, since the lights from the city outshine anything in the sky, except for the moon. Which is almost full.  
Downing the rest of the coffee, I am still too hyped up to concentrate on one thing. Thoughts on Monika, Aster, buses, shopping centres, psychologists -oh god Monika knows I am seeing Marie- and new housemates.  
There will be someone else living here on Wednesday. I am both quite excited and intensely nervous.  
This is someone who I will be actually living with for the next year. Someone who I don’t know. I’m sure they will be fine, but there are so many what ifs.  
Not for the first time today, my stomach rolls uncomfortably. But this is the first time I think about actually making myself-  
No, I can’t. It’s been roughly a month since I last made myself vomit. That’s a record, and one I am attempting at keeping.  
But there are so many things, feelings and thoughts and questions and I am so overwhelmed and-  
My mouth fills with saliva.  
I streak to the bathroom as quick as quick as I possibly can as shudders rack through me. Flipping the lip up on the toilet, my stomach convulses, and I throw up until I am empty, and even then I continue to gag.  
When there is finally no more, I flush and slump against the wall.  
I was diagnosed with Bulimia a while ago, like three years ago. At first, Grandpapa was confused as to why I was doing this to myself. He thought that I was insecure about my weight, and started to inform me that there was nothing wrong with how I looked.  
But you see, that wasn’t it.  
This is a coping mechanism, a way to expel of the sick notions that always overwhelm me, that always left me dizzy and shaking. The pain, the guilt, the fear from long ago that still chokes me-  
So you see, now it has become a reflex. When things get tough, I up everything in my belly. It’s how I handle things.  
No, used to. I mustn’t resort to that anymore. I need to take control, get my health back. Slowly, so slowly, the doctors and psychologists have been working on getting me to eat and to keep it down. Because how am I supposed to recover mentally if I am not my best physically?  
Their logic seems a bit backwards to me. Wouldn’t it be better to focus on getting healthier mentally first? Well, maybe I am wrong. After all, the doctors and psychologists are the experts in this area.  
‘Ugh,” I grumble, pushing myself off the wall. Snatching my toothbrush and some paste, I get rid of the disgusting taste in my mouth. Now that all the caffeine has left my system, I am exhausted. Maybe I should have another bath?  
No, too tired. Don’t want to fall asleep and drown. Really, I had a pretty big day. What I need is rest, because I am quite sure that I’m gonna need it for tomorrow. Monika is an intense person to be around.  
But it is all worth it. She is pretty cool.  
I rinse off my tooth brush and pace back out to the lounge to pack up all my sketchbooks and pens. Turning the lights off as I go, I trudge to my room and throw the sketchbook onto my bed. It’s still hot-ish in here, so I wrench open the window at the head of my bed to let the cool breeze in.  
Because of my rooming contract, I am not allowed to hang anything up on my walls. So, all my posters of kittens, artworks and movies had to be left back home in my old room. It’s dull now, lying in bed and looking around in the room that feels so bare. It makes me feel lonely and homesick.  
But despite that, I guess I am pretty lucky. I have moved out of home, with the support of my loving grandfather and brother, to begin tertiary study on art, which I have always had a deep passion for.  
And I think things will get even better.  
*  
The sun is really hot. It is pressing down on me, bright orange flames lick at my bare skin, and although I try running away from it, the flames catch me and turns me to coal.  
Then the sun eats me, and I become its fire.  
I am its heat, and we eat everything we can touch.  
We have been hungry for a long, long time.  
*  
I wake drenched in sweat and ugh it is quite hot in here.  
“Ew.” I sit up and peel off my singlet and toss it into my clothes basket. Looks like I will be needing a shower then. Searching for my phone under all the pillows, I check the time.  
Oh gosh I slept in! I’ve only got enough time for a quick wash. I scamper out of bed and hurry to gather my towel and some clothes, then run to the bathroom.  
Not before running into the door first, of course. I tend to forget to open these sort of things. I shower hastily to rid of the sticky consequence of heat, and decide to not even bother with breakfast. I am positively too psyched up to keep food down.  
As I dry myself with my Hello Kitty towel (yes I am a child, fight me), I let myself get excited for today. But should I wait for Monika outside, or on the balcony and go down when I see her? Ah, it might be a little creepy for me to be looking out a window. Maybe I should just head down now and wait. It’s almost time anyway, I shouldn’t be waiting too long.  
The clothes that I had grabbed in a hurry turned out to also be Hello Kitty branded. Biting my lip, I wince. I really probably should get something better. But, no time now. I don’t think Monika is the type to laugh at people though. She seems just as obsessive about dogs as I am about cats anyway. At least I don’t have “What’s new, Pussy Cat?” as my ring tone.  
Giggles escape me as I shrug on the kitty shirt. Monika really is something. There is something so… genuine about her. Honest, but there is so much more to her than I could ever guess.  
I pull on me white denim shorts and zoom out of the bathroom and back to my room, collecting my phone, purse, keys and my new sunglasses, which I slide into my still damp hair. While sliding into my sandals, I dump everything else into my small hand bag and sling it over my shoulder and jog downstairs and outside.  
Why does it have to be so hot, ugh.  
And bright.  
Sunglasses on, I lock the door and saunter out onto the driveway and walk to the mailbox. It is under a tree, which means shade. I really probably should also purchase a hat as well. This is ridiculous.  
Keeping an eye out for Monika, I check for mail. Nothing but junk mail, so I whip out my phone for something to do.  
I check Facebook, my newsfeed is filled with different art from different pages I’ve liked, random selfies from people I went to school with and memes. It’s a distraction, but a lousy one. Apart from all the art, it’s all filled with mindless babble. Yet here I am, reading everyone’s statuses complaining about the heat and I really need something better to occupy myself with.  
I am about to open Flappy Bird when something touches my shoulder lightly.  
“Merda!” I squawk, aiming to swat away whatever is touching me. Maybe it was Monika sneaking up on me-  
It’s just a butterfly, a pretty white one. It floats away when I move, but then comes back and settles on my shoulder and holy gosh this is the most purest moment of my life and I am grinning like a goof because there is a butterfly on my shoulder this is amazing.  
“Feliciana!” Monika calls as she rounds the corner. I whip around to see her, and the butterfly stays perched next to my head. I grin hugely at Monika, but I don’t want to move in case it makes the pretty creature leave.  
Monika strides toward me, her eyes hidden by sunglasses. She is dressed in a black tight fitted t-shirt with what looks suspiciously like a dire wolf printed on it. Faded blue denim shorts fit snugly around her upper thighs – gosh look at those legs – and her feet are covered by black converses that looks as though they have seen better days.  
As she stops in front of me with a gentle smile and a soft hello, I beam at her and point to my little friend.  
“Monika, look at this! Look, there is a butterfly on me! I have been chosen by the butterfly gods.” Yes, I realize how insanely childish I am, but I don’t care, because I am fairly sure anyone would get excited at having an actual butterfly bless you with their presence. There is something magical about it.  
Monika’s soft smile twitches into something more like awe as she tilts her head slightly at said butterfly. I can’t see her eyes, so I cannot tell where for sure her gaze falls. But I follow the tilt of her face to look at the white, delicate wings. There is a hint of yellow around the edge. This moment here is what I would call an Impressionist moment, probably a painting by Monet, full of romantic colours and majestic sweeping shapes and just a serene moment of innocent beauty.  
“Ziemlich.” She breathes softly. I look back at her, curious as to what she said, to find that she is gazing back at me. She must have caught the sun after yesterday, there is a red tinge across her nose and cheeks. It’s not a blush; that usually consumes her whole face.  
Now that I face her, I can’t look away, because even though I cannot see her eyes through her sunglasses, she holds my gaze and I cannot look away.  
It’s not like one of those scenes in a movie, that shiny new moment of a person seeing someone for the first time, that moment of sincere hearts beating for a new love, no.  
This is intense, like she is trying to see in me. In my head.  
Why?  
Like I am some foreign word, and she is trying to understand what I say.  
Well there is another question to add to the mental lists.  
So I can’t help but just stay there, and let her find whatever it is she is searching for. I wonder what she finds, what she thinks it means.  
The moment goes when Monika looks away, and I drag a deep, ragged breath in, and I feel a little flustered.  
“Are you ready to go, Feliciana?” She asks, sounding like she is trying too hard to be bold. I smile a little sadly. I decide then she definitely has an anxiety problem, and it wasn’t just shyness yesterday. Maybe the sunglasses are making her feel confident. No need to worry about eye contact when you can just hide your eyes.  
“I sure am,” I chirp at her as we start making our way down the street. “No dogs today?”  
“As I said yesterday, unfortunately I am unable to bring them on the bus.” She sighs, pouting a little. Then she turns and throws me a smirk. “Why? Do you miss them?”  
“Oh yeah,” I drone sarcastically. “I just loved the way they swept me off my feet and onto the ground.”  
Monika throws her head back and laughs at the sky.  
*  
“You know, I never pegged you to be a fan of Game of Thrones.” We are perched on a bench at the bus stop that was a five minute walk away, along one of the main roads. There is a tree backing the seat, so at least we have shade. Monika is on her phone, checking the bus schedule. I nod toward her shirt. “Or is that just because it has a dog on it?” Yeah, so I have gotten a little brave with her, dishing out only mildly cheeky comments. I’m testing the waters, being careful of how she takes it. I really like Monika, she is someone I could easily be friends with. But that doesn’t mean she is going to be an easy friend to make. I feel like she is someone who rarely lets her walls down, constantly wary. But she is such a genuine person, I can already tell.  
That question rattles around my head again. If she is so on guard, why is she doing this?  
Monika looks up at me with mock hurt. “It’s a good show I’ll have you know, it has nothing to do with the fact that the dire wolves are really cool and I really want a wolf and that Khaleesi is really cute-” she stops short, and I can see the angry red blush bloom over her face and down her neck.  
“Which one is that? I don’t watch it sorry, so I wouldn’t know any of the characters.” What I really wanna ask, is what has got you in a hot mess?  
Still sporting the tomato look, she bites her lip and glances at me nervously. Tucking her phone into her pocket, she sits up straight.  
“The bus should be here in a couple of minutes.” She states tensely.  
Oh? What was all that?  
“I’ll show it to you one time, maybe. It’s really good.” Quieter now.  
I glance up at her and smirk at her. “I have heard that it is notorious for its, uh, explicit content and that people have a habit of dying.”  
That smile I see too often, that shy, soft one that looks like she is trying to whisper her existence, to not disturb the air with her movement, that smile that is a want to be pulls at her face.  
“Only a lot. But, dragons.”  
“Well why didn’t you say so? I’m sold.”  
She chuckles at that while rubbing her wrist with her thumb. That draws my attention to the crisscross of scars that I know are there, that are hidden by beaded and woven bracelets. My thoughts start going sour as I brood over the fact that she has at some point self-harmed.  
“Oh!” Monika stands quickly, and waves her arm at the road. “The bus is a little early.” I glance over to the road, and sure enough, a bus chugs to a stop in front of us. I scamper up to my feet and skittle to Monika as the door to the bus slides open to reveal an old man at the wheel. Monika nods at him as she steps on, and she makes a show of tapping her green bus card on the yellow block of a sensor near located next to the driver’s seat.  
Well this is different. I’m positive that if I had been left to try and figure out all this city stuff by myself, I’d been reduced to confused tears.  
I smile brightly at the driver, who barely even blinks at me, and mimic Monika’ actions of pressing my card onto the sensor, and a small ding confirms the cards validity. The bus lurches forward then, even though neither Monika nor I are seated.  
Rude.  
The force makes me lose balance and jolts me into Monika’s back. She reacts quickly, hand shooting up to grab on of the metal bars down the bus aisle.  
Without thinking, I knot my fingers in the back of her shirt. I am so close to her, and I can smell the chocolate scent of her body spray.  
Monika tenses under my fingers, and twists around to face me.  
“…You all good?” she asks.  
I step back and laugh. “Sure, sorry!” she smiles politely and leads me to the back of the bus, her appearing to be much steadier on her feet than me while the bus speeds along. She slides into a seat and pushes her sunglasses up off her face as I plonk down next to her.  
Now I can see her eyes. She still has those brilliant blue irises, but…  
“Monika?” I whisper. “What happened? To give you a black eye, I mean.” I can’t tear my gaze from the blueish-purple splatter tainting around her right eye. It blooms impressively, her swollen skin looks as though it has been painted in ink. My face tingles just from how painful it looks.  
Her breath hitches, and her fingers curls into her shorts. She is starting to panic. She won’t look at me  
“Felia… I, it,” she chokes out. I feel as though my body is being injected with ice water, her words inject cold fear in me. “It’s noth-”  
“Don’t say it is nothing.” I hush sharply. “It is quite okay if you don’t want to tell me, but don’t pretend that it is nothing, piccolo cucciolo.” I keep my gaze on her, until she finally returns it. Eyes wide, face drained of any colour, she bites her lip and nods.  
“Sorry,” she mumbles guiltily. “I-it’s not that I don’t want to tell you, I-I can’t, because-”  
“Monika.” I don’t like the sound of that. I don’t like the sound of that at all. Is it an abusive relationship? “Who… did someone…?”  
“No! No it’s not like that. Don’t worry, I-I am fine. I just was not paying attention... it is fine, Feliciana.” She seems to dig deep within her, and drags up a new smile, like she is trying it on for the first time. It doesn’t quite fit.  
But, she tried.  
So, I try out a new smile, too.  
We are silent for a little while as the bus takes us to the inner city, though traffic is heavy, and it feels as though we are stopping every five seconds at the lights.  
But I am too pre-occupied to care. Something isn’t right here. Something is definitely not right. I believe her when she says that no-one did this to her… but then how? Normally I wouldn’t be concerned. Lovino would get black eyes all the time, walking into poles and walls. If Monika had just brushed it off, then I would have just shrugged and moved on.  
But the panic that seized her face. The nervousness of her voice.  
Yet, she said this wasn’t a person’s doing…  
I glance at her bare, muscular arms, and I notice that they are splotched with bruises too.  
Her bruises that ink over her wild scars.  
This just doesn’t add up.  
What is happening?  
What has happened to Monika?  
“I’m sorry,” She whispers, her hushed voice scaring the life out me. I look back up at her, she is biting her lip and looking at her hands as they rub at her wrists. “I practiced so long this morning to just downplay my reaction when you asked me. I didn’t want you to worry. I just have a tendency to panic, especially when I try to lie. Um, it is kinda my default setting to panic. But,” she turns and gives me a more genuine grin. “I really will be fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”  
I place my hand on hers. She stiffens a little, and sucks in a breath. I don’t know if it’s from me touching her, or just she is trying to regain control over her default setting.  
“It’s okay, Monika. Don’t apologise.” I rub my thumb over her knuckles, it seems to loosen her up a bit as she exhales shakily. “I just want you to know that you don’t need to make up lies to me. Don’t be worried about covering up something that you don’t want to tell me.”  
“Thank you,” she breathes gently.  
I didn’t keep my hand on her for too long.  
We gradually kept a nice conversation going, resuming the talk about T.V shows, about how Lovino and I watched a few seasons of Tru Blood together until we got bored of it, about Gil being a nerd who has been having a Disney marathon and Monika who most definitely did not participate in (she totally did), about how I may or may not be slightly watching cartoons.  
“I kind of guessed that. You seemed like that kind of person to enjoy those things.” She said, not unkindly. She nods to my shirt. “Are you a cat person?”  
I snort. “Cats, definitely. You can keep your dogs.”  
“That is quite fine with me.”  
“You don’t like kitties?”  
“Um, I guess they are kind of cute. But I love my dogs more. But I guess that is because I manage to stay upright around them, unlike someone else I know.”  
“Ouch! Wow, I see how it is. I thought what we had was real, Monika!”  
She grins wickedly at me. I poke my tongue out at her.  
The buildings around us began to change. Houses became less common, and shops gradually increased in size and became grander. The traffic also became thicker as the bus kept stopping to let passengers on. There is so many people on the bus. There are so many cars.  
There is so much everything.  
And I am so homesick.  
Monika shifts close to me, leaning to whisper at me. “We will be getting off at the next stop.” Then, she gets closer, I can feel her breath against my neck. My breath hitches in my throat from how nice it feels. “I can see your nerves. Stay close to me, and you will be okay.” I nod, and try to suppress the shudder that wants to ripple through me. A warmth comfort comes from Monika’s presence, and I feel at ease within her presence.  
She leans back and clasps my bony shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.  
And here I was, promising myself that I was going to be the one to look after her.  
Why am I still not strong enough to deal with my on issues?  
Monika still has her hand on my shoulder. I wonder if it is as much of a comfort her as well as me.  
The bus pulls in and stops alongside a particularly busy street. And it seems like nearly everyone on the bus wants to get off here. I sling my bag over my other shoulder and stand as Monika does. Since there was so many people piling to get out of the bus and we had at the back, we were one of the last passengers to leap onto the sidewalk, gasping as the muggy heat steals our comfort. Monika gives my shoulder another reassuring squeeze before dropping her hand to sling her arm through mine, like we had yesterday.  
“This way, I’ll show you to Davie Mall. It’s really nice.” She says lightly as she tugs me along.  
Davie Mall is just a block away. It’s this whole street long stretch-way of stalls and shopping complexes. Large groups of people bustle around, there is a flurry of colourful dresses and loose summer clothes, walking their dogs and pushing prams and holding hands with partners. I have my arm linked with a girl I met yesterday. What do we look like to other people? Close friends? Lovers?  
I immediately toss that thought away.  
Weaving through the dense pack of humans, I look to see a cute little stationery stall. Before we stroll pass, I tug gently on Monika.  
“Hey, is it okay if we go in here?” I point to the shop, it’s called BlueBird. “I have a slight obsession with cute stationery and I need to add more to my collection.” Hoard would be a more accurate description, to be honest, but she doesn’t need to know that.  
Monika glances to where I gesture, and allows me to pull her out of the heat and into the pastel themed shop.  
Dainty little notebooks and pens with adorable patterns are a big weakness of mine. They used for quick scribbles while I am out and about, like one notebook that was covered in ice-cream stickers was with me all the time at school. I would sketch teachers in class while pretending to do work, I would sketch friends during lunch break, the canteen volunteers, that boy I used to crush on. Every page was filled with blue biro scribbles.  
Another notebook, this with a strawberry caricature and matching pen, was used for drawing things around the home. My stuffed toys, Lovino tending to the tomato plant, my guitar, a snail that found its way on a flower, Grandpapa cooking pasta, things like that. I had many notebooks for other uses too.  
But now I am gonna need a few more, I think. To take to Uni, for trips like this, and for my new home.  
“Feliciana?” Monika calls me back out of my thoughts, and I blink at the table filed with scrapbook folders.  
“O-oops! I was in my own little world, sorry!” I laugh and give her a quick pat on the arm. “Just thinking about how nice this place is.”  
And I really do. The shelves are occupied with clocks, figurines, pencil cases, boxes, and photo albums that match the pastel theme. I love this vibe, it’s so cute.  
“Um, yeah. It is nice, I guess. I like that clock with the pug drawing on it.” I look to see Monika looking at the clock she speaks about, and I almost laugh.  
Monika, with her boyish short blonde hair, silver piercings, tight clothes outlining her defined muscles, bruising and scars on her fair skin, her very tough looking appearance really stands contrast to the delicate nature of our surrounds.  
But I know, I know that her appearance seems to be in conflict with her. Monika is fragile, an idiot could see that. She is soft, warm. I think back to the bus trip, how she reacted when I asked about the black eye. Monika is also scared.  
What are you afraid of, Monika?  
*  
In the end, I decided to get a couple of notebooks that had kittens on them. Monika bought the pug clock.  
I feel guilty for spending money on unnecessary things now, I really should just save it for groceries, rent, and bus money… all those things that come with living out of home. Working at the café back home all my high school life meant that I have plenty saved, but now I don’t have a job anymore, and the allowance I’m getting is just not quite enough.  
But, these notebooks are adorable. And they have kitties on them. So I can justify this purchase.  
We thank the elderly lady at the counter, and step back out into the heat. I really need to buy a hat, my gosh. For now though, we duck into the shade of the nearby stalls, and I fish out one of the notebooks from my bag to look at the cover art. It’s a fluffy ginger kitten, with big blue eyes and the cutest pink nose. Just looking at this adorableness makes me want to cry.  
“Why are cats so cute and why can’t I just have all of them.” I whine, clutching the book to my chest. Monika laughs lightly at me and rubs her wrists.  
“Would you like to go to the pet store? They had kittens in there a few days-”  
“OHGOSHTHEREISAPETSTORE?” I half shriek at her. She jumps slightly, blinking at me before laughing again.  
“Yeah. I kinda used to work there… but would you like to check it out?”  
“Would that be okay?”  
“Of course. I need to get dog food anyway, and talk to Ralph…” She hums then, eyes glazing over and her expressing becomes blank.  
“Monika…?” I touch her arm, and she stirs.  
“Sorry. Um, this way.”  
Monika tells me that Ralph is a friend of hers and Gil’s. She needs to see him today, but she won’t say what about. What she does tell me is that there are usually bunnies and kittens there, and maybe she could sneak us into their compartment and pet them. I almost cry.  
The store itself is underground, a narrow staircase is tucked away between two other large shops. We descend into the coolness, Monika behind me. A girl leans on the counter, playing on her phone. She looks up as we walk in. I give her a polite smile before looking for the kittens, wondering further into the shop.  
“Hello!” the girls greets in that fake enthusiasm people use for customers. “Do you guys need a hand with…” her Australian voice drifts off, her hazel eyes widening as she stares at Monika.  
Monika’s breath hitches, and I whirl around to face her. Her face has paled, expression pained and panicked.  
As if this wasn’t confusing enough, wicked laughter cackles from the girl.  
“Well, well. I was right in swapping my shift. Ralph said you would be turning up, and I just had to see you! It’s like I am never on work when you pay us a rare visit. Are you avoiding me, Monny?” she snorts and grins menacingly. Her tone towards Monika seems… hostile. I grit my teeth. Monika walks to stand slightly in front of me.  
“I need to see Ralph.” She says simply.  
“Aw, you’re hurting my feelings.” She bites her red lip and smirks. “Usually your brother does these kind of meetings. Did he send you in to do the dirty work after last night’s efforts? That was shitty of him.”  
“Gil is not a boy.” Monika growls at her. “I need to see Ralph.”  
“Oh please. Gil has a dick, doesn’t he? And Ralph isn’t here. So you’ll have to talk to me. Is that so hard, Monny?” Bitch girl shoves her phone in her pocket and waltzes up towards us. “Surely you could talk to me, Monny.”  
“Don’t come near us.”  
“Oh please, stop being such a shit. We’re adults, can you just let go what happened? No need to be such an asshole about it.”  
“Actually,” I say, stepping around Monika’s tense form, “you were the one being a bitch to her first.” She is about my height, so I can glare evenly at her. Her brunette hair is piled up in a messy bun, until she reaches up and pulls out the hair tie. She scoffs at me while twisting a strand.  
“Italian, huh? You Monny’s new chew toy? Exotic.” She glances up at Monika. “Nice.”  
Shocked. That is all I can feel.  
What is happening?  
“Chew toy?” I demand. Adrenaline is making me brave. I gotta stay brave.  
Bitch girl raises an eyebrow. “Who exactly are you?” she sneers.  
“Drop it, Kasey!” Monika hisses. “Go. Get. Ralph.”  
Kasey seems to shudder out of her mocking expression, and fixes Monika with a cold stare.  
“Did you just gave me an order?” She barks. I feel Monika’s hand clutch at the fabric around my hip. “Don’t you dare go ordering me around, dog. We may no longer be dating, but I still rank higher than you. Remember that.”  
I start seeing red.  
Then I see my hand flying out to slap her stupid face.

 

A/N: diese dummen Hunde- those silly dogs  
Piccolo cucciolo- little puppy  
Merda- shit  
Ziemlich- pretty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't TOO confusing, a lot of things will be answered in the next chapter! Please let me know what you think.  
> I have a tumblr: @gillybeanink0

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!  
> I have a tumblr; @gillybeanink0


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